Indecent Proposal
by The Flying Author
Summary: Written pre Deathly Hallows. While isolating himself from society for a time, Harry Potter has a choice to make, and a question to ask the love of his life.


The table was set. The candles were lit, the plates sparkling with an impeccable shine that can only be achieved with magic. The air smelt of a sweet summer day, full of laughter and love. The kitchen was spotless, left with no traces of the chaos that had erupted only hours before. The roast was in the oven. The flat was the cleanest it's ever been, roses in vases on every available surface, waiting to be admired.

And he wasn't coming home.

The figure on the couch continued to sob as the roast slowly turned black, the candles dripped wax on the floor, the plates began to look lackluster, and the warm feeling in the room was slowly drained away. _He wasn't coming home_. There would be no Christmas Dinner. No birthday party. No random celebrations because it was a Tuesday and they were bored. No more random take out when a perfectly good meal was in front of them. No more reading the paper aloud while the wireless uselessly droned on in the background. No, that would no longer exist.

Because he wasn't coming home.

She slowly walked over to the floo, and haphazardly threw powder in, hoping it would start a fire. Within seconds, a cheerful fire filled the otherwise drab fireplace, and she sighed. She stuck her head in the flames, and with all she could muster, she yelled, "MOLLY WEASLEY!"

Molly Weasley was bustling about her house, preparing to go over to her daughter's flat to celebrate dear Harry's 25th birthday, when her daughter's voice filled the kitchen. "Ginny?" she called out, turning around, looking for the source of the sound. "Where are you dear?"

"In the floo" came the feeble reply, muffled by the sound of tears hitting the flames, causing them to hiss angrily.

"Dear, what's wrong?" She asked, setting herself on a footstool by the fire, wiping her hands on her apron. "What's the matter?"

"I-I-It's H-H-Harry!" Her daughter sobbed. "He's not coming home!"

"What?" Molly said in fear, "But…why ever not? He's got as good a reason to come as any! It's his birthday!"

"That's just it Mum…he can't come home! He's gone off and got himself injured in Albania, and no one knows where he his, except that he's injured and in Albania. Oh Mummy…" She finished, before erupting into more tears. "Now the roast is burning. And the candles have melted all over the table…and he's not coming home for his own birthday! It's not _fair_!"

Molly sighed sympathetically. "Really Ginny, get yourself together. I'll be over there soon. Please, dear, remember, you are 24, not four."

"Yes, Mum" was the reply as the flames disappeared, and Molly sighed, wondering what she was going to do when she got her hands on that boy.

The stars were hidden by a thick layer of clouds as Harry Potter glanced out the window. He was not in Albania as everyone thought. No, he was in his old bedroom on Privet Drive, staring longingly out the window. He really had no idea why he was here. It was his birthday, he should be at home with Ginny and the others, enjoying the birthday dinner which had been so articulately made for him. But he couldn't go back there. Not right now. Not when the ghosts of his past were haunting him.

He looked away from the window and settled down on his old bed. Nothing had changed. He was pretty sure that the same bedding was still on, left there when he left Privet Drive for good, leaving to become something better than what he was. To become the Savior of the Wizarding World—again.

Harry watched as Hedwig sent a letter to the ministry, saying he was in Albania. Honestly, he just couldn't face being with the people who loved him, when he knew that he didn't deserve them. He deserved this, the people here, the people who never respected him, never loved him, never cared about him.

There was a sharp raping at the door, which startled Harry out of his thoughts. "Boy," a gruff voice spoke, with a hint of fear in it, "Some…person…is here for you." Curious, Harry walked over to the door and opened it. He had no idea who would come here—he had played it off so well that he was in Albania, injured, unable to disclose is location. What he found on the other side of the door—besides the image of his uncle rapidly waddling down the stairs for fear of his life—was a very pregnant Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin, being supported by Remus Lupin.

"Nice try, trying to get out of your birthday party," she said, slowly making her way into his room. "Honestly, Remus, I can walk. I'm not some damn cripple!" She said frustrated, as she tried to fend off his attempts at helping her.

"Shh! Not around the baby!" He said, covering the sides of her belly with his hands. "We don't want the baby to pick up on swearing before it's even born!" She rolled her eyes, and continued in, sitting on the desk chair, facing Harry, clasping her arms around her belly.

"Albania, huh?" She said, trying to sound amused. "I might not be able to get to the office anymore, but I know where my Aurors are constantly. You can't get out of this one."

Harry looked at her sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. "I just…I didn't feel like going."

"To your birthday party? You didn't feel like having Molly Weasley's prized cooking? Have you finally lost it?" Tonks said obtrusively, looking at Harry like he was insane. "You're kidding, right?"

Remus, however, took a more subtle approach. "This is because your father was 25 when he died, isn't it?" He said, gazing out the window. "Terrified of living longer than your parents because they aren't there for you?"

Harry just looked at Remus, unsure of what to say. "Harry," Remus said, "You're parents would have been proud of you. Honestly, go to the party. I'm tired of her mumbling about you. It's getting annoying."

Harry smiled slightly. "You don't seem yourself, Professor."

Remus smiled a bit as well. "Yes, well, if you had to spend every waking moment with her because she won't listen to the bed rest orders, you would be feeling this way too."

"Actually," Harry said, scuffing his shoe on the floor, "The reason I'm here isn't because of my parents."

"Oh?" Tonks said, rubbing her belly.

"Yeah. I'm…scared."

Remus smiled. "Why ever would you be scared?" He asked in a knowing way.

Tonks' face lit up. "You're proposing to her, aren't you?" She asked, unable to hide her glee. "You are, aren't you?"

Harry, on his part, looked positively red. "Erm, yeah, I was thinking about it."


End file.
